Cure My Tragedy
by StarlessWarrior
Summary: Tony has been locked away in his workshop for a month now, depressed after his breakup with Pepper. The team decides someone has to do something about it. So now, it's up to Steve to bring Tony back to his regular self. Rated T, but rating may change later on. Enjoy! (M/M Stony)


**A/N: This is my first ever Avengers Fic, and I really hope you like it!  
Enjoy the STony and tell me what you think!^^ **

It had been a whole month since Tony and Pepper had broken up. A whole month of Tony being shut in his workshop and drinking himself to death; of not sleeping, showering or eating. He was very obviously depressed, and it was on this day that Steve's team-mates had decided that it was time to help their billionaire friend. When they finished discussing the issue, everyone looked to Steve, who took quite a while to catch on to what they were thinking. When he did, Steve exclaimed, 'But he hates me!', though that didn't really get him anywhere in his argument – everyone knew that Steve and Tony were at least on friendly-teasing terms by now.

So now here Steve was, pacing in his bedroom, worrying his lip between his teeth. How was he meant to do this? He did care about Tony a lot – one _hell_ of a lot, in fact – and he wanted him to recover (was recover even the right word?), but was Steve really the best person to help? Surely Bruce, or even _Clint_ , would have been a better choice? Everyone seemed closer to Tony than Steve was.

"JARVIS, where's Tony?" Steve asked the Al, looking up at his ceiling as he halted in his pacing. He was still not used to the voice speaking from no apparent source and had decided that looking up to the ceiling seemed to be a sufficient way of dealing with that. It had to be somewhere up there, right?

"Sir is still in his workshop, Mr Rogers." The Al offered helpfully, and Steve swore he could hear the concern in his voice. "Would you like me to inform Sir on your-"

"No." Steve shook his head. Definitely not; the last thing he needed was for Tony to shut him out before Steve even really tried. "No, that's okay." He paused, and then, "How bad is it- is he?"

"Bad, Mr Rogers."

Well, that was helpful.

He supposed that meant _really_ bad, then.

"Right." Steve muttered, and with that, he made his way out of his room.

Steve's room was on the floor below Tony's in the Stark Tower. They'd all moved in together as Fury said it would be easier for them all to be together if an attack should happen, and that they needed to team build as well- whatever that was. It had been pretty nice so far, in all fairness. Tony offered all of them their own floors, but they all refused and took the floor below Tony's as their own, and in such it had become the sort of communal floor.

The floor below that one was the workshop. Tony didn't usually let people in there, not unless he had invited them down, and so Steve really hoped that JARVIS would let him in before Tony realised.

Soon enough, Steve was in the lift. He didn't even need to press the button down, JARVIS already got it moving for him.

 _Let no one doubt the Al's feelings for Tony_ , Steve thought.

The lift stopped, and suddenly Steve wasn't as nervous anymore. He should help Tony; Tony was his friend. He was just doing the right thing, so why was he making this harder than it needed to be?

Oh, that's right, because Tony was stubborn as hell and it probably was going to be very difficult.

Steve didn't doubt that one bit.

Before walking in, Steve ran the team's plan through his head once more. Talk to him, sit with him and listen, and then when he's finished ranting, take him upstairs and just look after him.

Simple enough.

Okay, he couldn't put off walking in there any longer. He knew he just didn't want to see what Tony had driven himself to.

"JARVIS-" Steve began, but then the doors opened for him anyway without him needing to finish speaking. "Thank you."

Tony was hunched over some new invention of his, a strained look on his face as he attempted to concentrate on whatever he was doing, but the bags under his eyes proved that he was really too tired to concentrate at all. He was absolutely covered in oil, and Steve wasn't sure if it was sweat, oil or just pure grease that dripped from Tony's messy hair and trailed down the back of his neck. He suspected sweat; he could hear Tony's shaky breaths and his hands failing to steady, just more proof that Tony had overworked himself way too much. His shirt clung to him like a second skin, the sweat from his body mixing with the greases on his shirt and creating a most foul odour. His sleeves were bunched at his elbows so Steve could see the cuts from work up his arm, or was that the cuts from smashing things? Tony did smash things when he was angry.

With a glance to the other side of the room, Steve concluded that it was smashing things that had caused that. There was a stash of alcohol to the side, now empty, of course, with a few broken glasses.

Steve felt his throat swell up horribly and his eyes sting as he took in the sight before him. This was horrible. So, so horrible. Tony didn't deserve this.

Slowly, he walked across the room, avoiding the stray pencils, paper and glass all over the floor, until he came to sit next to Tony.

"Tony?"

"How did you get in here?" Tony snapped without looking at him. His voice didn't seem slurred, so perhaps he was finally free of the alcohol?

"I walked." He replied, giving a snarky smile to Tony. He was rewarded with an amused scoff in return and that made Steve feel a whole lot better, his throat a lot less tight, and his eyes soften.

"JARVIS betrayed me again, didn't he?" Tony asked, or rather, stated, with a shake of his head. "I ought to take him apart one of these days."

"An empty threat, sir." JARVIS commented dryly making Steve bark a laugh. Tony rolled his eyes, but he was smiling too.

This was a lot better than Steve was expecting. He wasn't helplessly drunk or anything. He seemed perfectly fine, and perhaps Steve would have believed that if it weren't for the fact he could see that that wasn't the case at all. Tony did look like a mess.

"When was the last time you showered, Tony?" Steve asked him, earning a raised eyebrow in his direction.

"Why so curious, Cap?" He waggled his eyebrows, and now it was Steve's turn to roll his eyes.

"I'm serious." He insisted.

"Aren't you always?" Tony sighed, finally putting down his electronic-y stuff Steve had no name for and turning to him. "Come to babysit me or something? Don't bother, just leave. I'm busy working here, Capsicle."

Steve furrowed his brows at that, taking a few seconds to think before he shook his head, stubbornly refusing to go. "No, Tony, we're worried about you."

"Oh, well, I appreciate the concern, but really, there's no need." His voice was laced with venomous sarcasm and it made Steve's heart drop. Did he really think that they wouldn't worry about him? Tony turned away from Steve then, picking up whatever it was that he put down.

"There is every need!" Steve suddenly shouted, a little frustrated. "We care about you, and we don't want to see you throw your life away over _her_!"

"Steve."

Steve calmed himself down, making sure not to shout, and looked up at Tony who had just stood up. Then he saw how angry the other looked, and also how _upset_ he was. Oh, bugger… Steve probably shouldn't have mentioned Pepper at all.

"Tony, I-"

He didn't get to finish his apology, for Tony's fist collided with his face. _Hard_. Steve heard his nose crack and felt the warm blood ooze from it, but he didn't get up to hit him back. He probably had deserved that. Yeah, he definitely deserved that. He covered his nose with his hand and tried to stop the blood from trickling between his fingers and onto his clothes. Steve almost wondered how Tony managed to hit him so hard in his ill state when he looked back up and the thoughts stopped. Tony was still looking down at him, glaring clearly but not as upset as Steve thought he'd be.

"I'm going to shower. Don't get blood on my floor, sugar puff." He said and walked out.

And Steve smiled.

That went a whole lot easier than expected.

Maybe a harsh shove was better than a calm discussion?


End file.
